


What It Seems

by phqyd_roar



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Civil War Team Iron Man, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Missing Scene, Peter is a dork, Things that need to be said, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, many hugs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-23 00:08:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20000737
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phqyd_roar/pseuds/phqyd_roar
Summary: “Mr Stark is trapped in a hostile environment and his suit is completely non-functional. I have been unable to access the interface in his suit since 12 minutes ago and I’m contacting everyone on the team who can help. Can you go to him immediately?”“Yes I can,” Peter assured her, holding his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he struggled to get his shoes on.





	1. Chapter 1

Peter still couldn’t believe it, what happened today. He had met so many of his personal heroes: fought against them, fought with them, and stood his own; even against Captain America! Sure, he was sore as hell, but the adrenaline hadn’t died down yet. 

After the fight, the rogue superheroes had been arrested, Captain America and the Winter Soldier had gotten away, and Mr Stark had to immediately leave to deal with the fallout. Happy had driven Peter to a hotel in Berlin and then everyone basically seemed to have forgotten about Peter. He wondered what Mr Stark was doing. Probably chasing down Captain America. Peter hoped he could help. He was a fan and all, but Peter thought that the Captain had been quite unreasonable at the airport. Peter didn’t know too much about what was going on with the Accords, but Mr Stark had clearly not set out to fight the Captain and arrest him. He had wanted to talk, and he didn’t seem to think the fight would get too bad. All he had said to Peter was to take Cap’s shield and tie him up with web so that ‘the stubborn asshole stops trying to solve problems by punching things’. That was, honestly, quite an accurate prediction of what Captain America had done. Peter really hoped they worked it out. He hoped that the Avengers would make up, and everything would be okay, and maybe Mr Stark and Captain Rogers would be so impressed with Peter they let him be an Avenger-in-training or something like that.

Peter was fiddling with his camera and thinking about doing another bit on his v-log when his phone rang. He hadn’t even known that his phone plan could get reception in Germany. It was a blocked number.

“Hello?”

“Peter Parker?” Said a female voice rather urgently.

“That’s me. Who am I speaking with?”

“I am FRIDAY, an artificial intelligence system created by Mr Tony Stark. He needs your help. He is in immediate danger and requires aid as fast as possible.”

Peter jumped to his feet immediately, tensing. “What? Why? What happened? What’s wrong with Mr Stark?”

“Mr Stark is trapped in a hostile environment and his suit is completely non-functional. I have been unable to access the interface in his suit since 12 minutes ago and I’m contacting everyone on the team who can help. Can you go to him immediately?”

“Yes I can,” Peter assured her, holding his phone between his shoulder and his ear as he struggled to get his shoes on. “Hang on, let me get Happy.”

Peter banged on Happy’s door desperately until he opened it, looking disgruntled.

“Mr Stark is in danger and he needs us,” Peter told him succinctly.

“What?” Said Happy.

Peter shoved the phone at him, assuming that Ms FRIDAY could explain the situation better than he could. Peter wasn’t sure about the situation himself. Where was Mr Stark? Why had his suit powered down?

“Hello? FRIDAY,” said Happy, looking less tense. He listened. Then he looked at Peter incredulously and said, “Is there no one else?” He listened some more, then said somberly, “Got it. Please tell Pepper and Vision that we’re on our way.”

Peter, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet, said, “Can we go?”

Happy gave him a stare. “Put on your suit, Spider-man.”

Ten minutes later, they boarded Mr Stark’s jet, which had flown itself over to the hotel and hovered on the roof so that Peter and Happy could get on, because it was _that urgent_.

Realizing he still didn’t know anything, Peter asked, “Where are we going?”

“Siberia,” said Happy. “FRIDAY’s got the coordinates, and the wheel.”

Siberia! Peter knew next to nothing about Siberia. How far was Siberia from Germany again?

“How long will it take us to get there?”

“At top speeds on this thing, 35 minutes.”

Peter nodded. Happy looked serious, but Peter was a little surprised at how, uh, non-grumpy Happy was being at the moment. He must be really worried about Mr Stark.

They sat in tense silence for a few more minutes, then Happy said, “Colonel Rhodes is still injured.” 

“Oh,” Peter said, blinking. He hadn’t realized that Colonel Rhodes had been injured at the airport. “Is- is he going to be alright?”

“I don’t know,” said Happy. “Pepper and Vision are stateside. The rest of the merry band are in jail.”

Peter nodded at this information.

“What I’m trying to say is, I’m not comfortable with sending a kid into a dangerous situation like this. But we have no one else and Tony needs help. When we get there, be careful, and I’ll be with you, alright? Vision is also on his way.”

“Don’t worry about it, Mr Happy. I’m fine, I got super powers. I can hold my own. I’ll get Mr Stark out of there safe.”

Happy didn’t look too convinced, but he didn’t say anymore about it.

They touched down in the snow. Happy looked out of the window as they landed and said, “Another plane was here. You can see the marks.”

“Do you think it was Captain America?”

Looking gloomy, Happy said, “I can’t imagine who else Tony would come out here for.”

Fully suited up, Peter jumped out and headed towards the concrete bunker, letting out a gasp at how cold it was. The Spider-man suit insulated him surprisingly well though. It was chilly, but he would be fine. Happy, dressed in a regular suit, winced as he stood in the doorway.

“You stay here, I’ll go,” Peter said.

“No, come on, kiddo,” Happy protested.

“You’ll freeze! You’ll get hypothermia or something, you’re not a superhero!” Peter said. “At least put on some more clothes, I’ll go ahead!”

Without waiting for a response, Peter ran for the bunker. 

The doors were open and it was pretty obvious a fight had occurred here. But no one seemed to be around anymore. It was eerie, and Peter didn’t quite dare yell in case he brought something bad down. He ran quietly down the stairs, scanning left and right for Mr Stark’s red-and-gold.

At the bottom of the stairs, Peter stopped dead for a while to stare in horror at the tanks with _people_ in them. Dead people, presumably. He tore his eyes away, following the signs of fighting, finally raising his voice to shout. For some reason, after seeing the dead people in tanks, Peter felt convinced that no one was around anymore. 

“Mr Stark! Mr Stark!”

This place was creepy as hell, and Peter was scared. He pushed through it though, he had something to do. Someone to save.

Peter’s heart rose to his throat as he caught sight of Captain America’s shield, lying on the ground. Not far away was a section of what was clearly the Winter Soldier’s cool metal arm.

“Mr Stark?” 

Peter ran to pick up the shield, and then he saw him - Mr Stark in the Iron Man armor propped up against a concrete wall, helmet gone, his face ashen and his eyes closed.

“Mr Stark!” Peter skid down to his knees in front of the man, reaching out to touch his cheek. It was freezing cold. He searched for a pulse, wasn’t sure he found one. But then again, Peter might be doing it wrong. He had to get him back to the plane.

Peter tried to figure out how to pick him up. Peter was strong enough to lift buses with his bare hands, but he didn’t know how Mr Stark was injured and he didn’t want to make it worse. Peter settled for putting one arm under Mr Stark’s shoulders and one arm under his knees and carried him back to the plane as fast as he dared without jostling him.

“I got him!” Peter yelled as he came within sight of the plane.

Happy, who had found some kind of puffer jacket and was just getting out, stopped and said, “Great! Bring him up.”

Peter carefully laid Mr Stark out on the floor, panting. 

“I’m, I’m not sure he’s alive?”

Both of them crouched around the crumpled superhero. Happy put a hand to Mr Stark’s neck and said, after a while, “I got a pulse. We should probably get this suit off him, get him warm. Then I’ll let Pepper know and she’ll send us coordinates to a hospital.”

“Right,” Peter nodded firmly, relieved that an adult type person seemed assured of Mr Stark’s being alive. He looked really bad.

Peter brushed his hands uselessly over the wrecked suit, trying to figure out a safe way to take it off. His fingers trailed over the cracked arc reactor, which was smashed in a horizontal line that dug into the reactor and the gold titanium alloy on either side in a most distinctive way.

“Captain America,” Peter whispered, horrified. 

“What?”

“He did this to Mr Stark,” Peter said, looking up to stare at Happy with wide eyes, barely believing it himself, despite the evidence. 

Happy looked between Peter’s face and the crack in the dead arc reactor that Peter was tracing speechlessly.

“I- look at this crack! I saw the Captain’s shield back there, on the ground. He was here, they must have fought. He did this to Mr Stark. He…he left him here.” 

Peter didn’t say _to die_ , but the words hung in the air anyway, both of them stunned.

Happy gathered himself after a few moments, cleared his throat and seemed to shake it off. “We can’t be sure what happened until Tony wakes up. Let’s just…focus on that, alright? He, he got a spare arc reactor on this plane, I’ll go get it.”

“Yeah,” Peter said weakly. That seemed like a real good plan. “Yeah.”

Happy walked away a few steps and then paused. “You said that Cap’s shield was on the ground back there?”

“Yeah. And, uh, part of the Winter Soldier’s arm? The metal one.”

Happy’s face turned grim. “You’d better go back real quick and get them. No one’s around, right?” 

“No,” Peter assured him. Now he thought about it, he probably shouldn’t leave Captain America’s shield just lying around for anyone to find in Siberia. “Nobody at all. I’ll be right back.”

Happy found him a comm unit to put in his ear and keep in touch with, and Peter jumped off the plane and ran into the creepy bunker again, intending to be in-and-out as fast as he could with minimal looking at the dead bodies in tanks.

Peter went back to where he found Mr Stark, picked up the shield and the severed robot arm. It didn’t seem quite so awesome anymore when Peter felt like this. He kept an eye out for anything else useful that he might have missed in his haste to find Mr Stark, and that was when he noticed the video frozen on the screen in the Dead Bodies room.

Peter cautiously approached the video player, shield on one arm, robot limb held in the other, and fiddled with it until it began to play. And play. And play.

“ _Peter? You okay? What’s taking so long_?” Said Happy from the comm unit.

“I’m fine,” Peter said weakly, feeling a little numb with shock. “I…I found another thing. Might be important.”

“ _Alright, bring it with you and come on back. Hurry!_ ”

Peter jumped into action. He spent a few moments trying to figure out how to eject the VCR tape and then headed back to the jet. His eyes were a little wet, but thankfully he had his mask on, so Happy wouldn’t notice.

After Peter dumped his loot on a random seat and Happy closed the doors, he saw that Mr Stark’s reactor was glowing again and Happy was removing pieces of the armor from him.

“Let’s go, FRIDAY,” Happy said, and the plane began to rise.

Silently, Peter helped Happy take off Mr Stark’s armor for him, tugging off his mask as the heat in the plane turned up - presumably to get Mr Stark warm. They got him down to his underclothes, Happy produced some blankets to tuck around him, and Peter gently wiped the blood from Mr Stark’s face with a wet towel and resolved to learn some better first aid if he was going to carry on in the superhero business.

“What other thing did you find?”

There had been no speaking for maybe twenty minutes and Peter jumped a little.

“Uh.” Peter gestured vaguely at the VCR tape. Happy squinted at it.

Peter really didn’t want to talk about it, so instead he said, “Ms. FRIDAY? Do you know what happened back there in the bunker?”

“I have video footage from the heads up display up to the moment the power failed. However, I cannot share this with you without the permission of Mr Stark.”

“That makes sense,” Peter said. “I’m glad you know what happened, though.”

Happy eyed Peter and apparently decided against asking him anything else.

After the plane arrived at their destination, things were a bit of a blur. Ms Potts and Mr Vision had both arrived at the hospital, and the doctors and nurses took over Mr Stark’s care. Ms Potts spoke to Peter-as-Spiderman, hurried but polite, thanking him for coming to Mr Stark’s rescue and promising to let him know when he was okay.

Happy drove Peter back to the hotel and wished him a subdued good night. They had only left for three hours or so. It was surreal.

Three hours, and Peter couldn’t reconcile what he had learned about one of his great heroes with what Peter and the world thought of him. 

Captain America was protecting the Winter Soldier, an international fugitive who had clearly murdered Mr Stark’s parents. He had fought with Mr Stark and left him broken on the ground in the freezing cold in the middle of nowhere, injured and alone.

Peter couldn’t understand at all, and his heart ached with it. When he closed his eyes, he kept getting flashes of awful images: the Winter Soldier strangling Mrs Stark, the dead bodies in the tanks, the first look he’d gotten of Mr Stark unconscious on the ground. Even the events of earlier in the day, when Peter had been excited to show off for his heroes, were turning sour in retrospect. 

Peter tossed and turned, unable to make his mind settle. He finally put on his suit again and swung out of the window.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my entire motivation for this fic is like, I watched Civil War and it was so much feeeeels and  
> I want a scene where someone says to Peter, 'ugh, you know what Tony is like' nudge nudge wink wink  
> and Peter is all, 'uh, no, I DON'T know, Tony is awesome, what are you talking about??'
> 
> So that's where this is heading, hopefully.

“Mr Stark?”

Peter walked into the hospital room where Mr Stark lay. The top half of his bed was propped up so he could fiddle with his StarkPad and he shot Peter a weak grin as Peter came in.

“Hey, Spider-kid. Heard you were worried about me,” he said casually.

“Yeah. Last time I saw you, you didn’t look too good.”

Mr Stark patted the edge of his rather spacious bed and Peter sat down. Mr Stark put down the StarkPad and waved his hands around airily.

“I’m doing alright. A little bit of hypothermia, a few broken ribs, some bruises and bangs. Nothing that’ll kill me. We’ll be out of here tomorrow. Deliver you back to Aunt Hottie safe and sound.”

Peter paused to take that in, staring at Mr Stark probably none-too-politely. He recognized humor as a defense mechanism all too well, seeing as it was one of his own favorites too. 

Not getting an answer, Mr Stark’s features turned somewhat more serious. “So. I gotta say, I really appreciate what you did for me, Peter.”

“Huh?” It took Peter a second to realize what Mr Stark was talking about. “Oh! You mean coming to get you in Siberia? Anyone would have done that.”

Mr Stark grimaced, and then Peter winced, both of them no doubt thinking about the very many members of Mr Stark’s team who _hadn’t_ come to his rescue.

“Anyone with any decency would have done that,” Peter added, quietly but firmly.

Mr Stark eyed Peter rather expressionlessly. Peter got the feeling that the man had dropped the thin veneer of cheer and bravado he usually put between himself and the world.

“Sir? I ought to tell you something. Um. While I was there, I saw something I maybe shouldn’t have, shouldn’t have seen without your permission.”

Mr Stark closed his eyes. “The video?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good god, kid, don’t call me sir. I feel old enough without your help.” Mr Stark rubbed his face and sighed heavily. “Of course, _you_ would tell me about it the first moment you could. You’re a good kid. _Decent_.”

Peter blinked, not entirely certain where this thought process was heading. “Thank you?”

“But then again, the good Captain’s certainly decent. It’s just _I’m_ not decent. You just don’t know me well enough to know any better.”

Peter tilted his head and frowned, his brain working extra fast to figure out what Mr Stark’s talking about. When he reached a conclusion, his mouth fell open. “Wait. Are you- are you saying the Captain knew about, about the video and didn’t tell you?”

Mr Stark stared at him and said, “Oh god, I forgot you were smart.”

At this confirmation, Peter smushed his face into his hands, feeling cold with shock. He had been turning it over and over in his head from last night to now - what he had found in the bunker, the conclusions he could draw and the things he ought to reserve judgement on, what that meant about the superheroes he had looked up to his whole life. And now this. Peter really wanted to be reasonable, and impartial, and understand both sides of the argument, but more and more he was aching for Mr Stark and he had no idea what the hell was going on with Captain America.

“Why would he _do_ that?” Peter muttered, not really expecting an answer.

“The Winter Soldier - formerly Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes - was Cap’s childhood best friend. He was captured and brainwashed by HYDRA,” said Mr Stark. “It wasn’t him. It wasn’t really him.”

Something in Mr Stark’s tone told Peter that he was quoting someone. Peter lifted his head and asked, “Is that what he said to you?”

Holding Peter’s gaze, Mr Stark gave a little shrug.

“What a fucking asshole,” said Peter.

Mr Stark’s eyebrows shot up. He looked surprised but also kind of delighted. Peter was kind of glad Mr Stark wasn’t telling him off for swearing, because right now was really not the time for that kind of thing.

“I thought you were a fan.”

Not in the mood to address that comment, Peter said, “My parents died in a plane crash. It was an accident, a malfunction, nobody’s fault. I know how hard it is to have terrible things happen and have no one to blame but fate, or god, someone or something out of your control. I spent a lot of years really mad at the pilot of the plane before I grew up enough to understand that’s stupid. And I kept wondering if it was something _I’d_ done, all the things I could have done to make sure they didn’t get on that plane. If I found out that it wasn’t an accident? That it was _murder_ , the way it was in that…if I saw how it went down.” Peter let out a long breath. “Mr Stark, I’m not a murderous kind of person, but I would probably be capable of killing in cold blood in that moment.”

Peter looked up to meet Mr Stark’s eyes again, and his heart jerked when he found Mr Stark’s eyes glistening with tears. Without further thought, Peter leaned in and hugged him, and Mr Stark pulled him closer, his breath shaky against Peter’s ear, each exhale almost a whimper.

Finally, Mr Stark pulled back with a sniff and said, “Mind the ribs.”

“Sorry,” Peter mumbled, smiling tearfully, and shifted back an appropriate distance. They stared at each other, the air tense with an odd mixture of intimacy and awkwardness. 

“I’m really sorry that happened to you,” Peter said softly, breaking the silence.

Mr Stark snorted. “Well, for some reason that doesn’t piss me off from you. I don’t want to hear it from anyone else, though.”

Peter got that. It was an empathy thing. Peter knew zero other people whose parents had both died in an accident.

“Maybe it’s ‘cos I’m cute,” he joked, then blushed. With the intimate atmosphere going on, it came out sounding kind of inappropriate.

Mr Stark either didn’t feel it or ignored it. He grinned and ruffled Peter’s hair like he was a puppy, agreeing, “You are pretty darn cute.”

“I was joking,” Peter complained, ducking out and pouting. “I’m not _cute_. I’m very intimidating to criminals. I brought down that huge guy with my superior tactics.” 

Mr Stark rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, kiddo. You’re real impressive.”

“And it’s Spider- _man_ ,” Peter insisted for good measure. “You wouldn’t want to tell people you got rescued by Spider-kid, would you?”

Mr Stark chuckled. “You got me there, Spider-thing. Well, run along now. I’ll see you on the flight back.”

“Okay,” Peter said, getting to his feet. Then, riding the last of that intimate feeling, he said, “Hey, Mr Stark? Are we friends?”

Mr Stark blinked up at him in surprise. Then he said, “Well, if you didn’t call me sir, maybe we could call it that.”

Peter beamed at him before he turned. “Bye, Tony!”

“I didn’t say go that far!” Mr Stark complained after him.

Peter just laughed.

* * *

“You really ought to tell your aunt, you know,” Mr Stark remarked as Happy drove them towards Peter’s house.

“No,” Peter said firmly, making an X with his arms to emphasize. “I’ve been over this. The freaking out and all.”

Mr Stark rolled his eyes, extremely unimpressed. “Man up, Spider- _man_. You want to be a superhero, you have to start being responsible about your own safety.”

Happy gave an incredulous cough up front and Mr Stark glared at the back of his head.

“But you got my back, right?” Peter said, making hopeful puppy eyes at him.

“I do,” Mr Stark said grudgingly. “But that’s not a pass for you to go and do anything stupid. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do. And don’t do anything I would do. There’s a little grey area and that’s where you operate.”

Peter scrunched up his face as he tried to figure out that elusive wisdom.

“So I’m an Avenger?” Peter said hopefully.

“No,” said Mr Stark, mimicking Peter’s earlier action in making an arm X to show him just how much he wasn’t an Avenger. Peter slumped sadly.

“I’m an Avenger in training?”

“We don’t have those.” Mr Stark’s gaze flickered up as though he recalled something to negate that statement, but then he shook it off. “Give me your phone.”

Peter did. Mr Stark took one look at it and then slapped it down in Peter’s hand again with a grimace. “That is not a phone, that is a waste of good metal and glass. I’ll send you another one, encrypted, with my number on it. Don’t lose it.”

Peter brightened. Mr Stark was giving Peter his number! Because they were friends. Friends could text each other and stuff. That sounded great.

“Wow, thanks Tony!” 

Mr Stark gave Peter a pointed look then slide his gaze over to the driver’s seat. Peter followed the gaze to meet Happy’s WTF look in the rearview mirror.

Peter cleared his throat. “I mean, I appreciate that very much, Mr Stark.” Peter’s attempt at a grown-up tone accidentally came out with a British accent.

“You’re very welcome,” said Mr Stark, clearly mentally laughing at him.

The car pulled up outside Peter’s building. Mr Stark turned to Peter with an air of farewell.

“So when can I see you again?” Peter said.

Happy, halfway getting out of the car, started coughing loudly. Mr Stark gave Peter another disbelieving stare and Peter hastily backtracked.

“I mean, like, when’s our next mission?” Peter did a dorky little fist-wave and then immediately regretted his entire existence.

“I’ll send you the phone,” Mr Stark said slowly, as though he was questioning Peter’s intelligence. “We’ll keep in touch.”

“Right, right,” Peter said, blushing madly.

Mr Stark leaned across him and Peter leaned in for a hug, relieved at the reprieve from questioning his own idiocy.

“That’s not a hug, I’m just getting the door for you.”

Oh. Peter Parker: Human Disaster confirmed.

Peter quickly escaped up to his apartment, trying with all his considerable experience to ignore the embarrassing stuff he just said. And to not fixate on the way Mr Stark looked when he smiled at him. 

That would be bad. Definitely bad.


	3. Chapter 3

Peter had to stop spam texting Mr Stark. He really should. Because it had been like three weeks and Mr Stark hadn’t texted him back even once. He was probably busy - the fallout from what the media was calling the ‘Superhero Civil War’ was in full swing, and even outside of that, Mr Stark must have a lot to do anyway. But Peter was a hopeless optimist, and he couldn’t help feeling that maybe, maybe if he texted again, he would catch Mr Stark in a free moment and get a reply.

Even an emoji would be nice, if Mr Stark used emojis.

_Peter: gave directions to a really nice lady today and stopped a bicycle theft_

_Peter: miss you x_

Peter sent that, stared at it in horror, tried and failed to erase it, then tried to spam fast enough that Mr Stark maybe wouldn’t see it.

_Peter: I mean boy working with you was really great sir_

_Peter: you’re inspirational_

_Peter: I want to be like you_

“What are you saying, fuck!” Peter said to himself, throwing the phone onto his bed in defeat. How he could fail to have a brain-to-mouth filter _over text_ even he himself couldn’t comprehend. It was just that Mr Stark had left him on read for so long it kind of felt like the texts were going into the void. At the beginning, Peter had totally sent texts that opened _hello Mr Stark_ and ended _\- Peter (Spider-man)_.

His phone buzzed.

_TS: I’ll send a car for you Saturday at 3. We should talk about your suit._

Peter groaned in a mixture of ecstasy and embarrassment.

* * *

When Peter saw Mr Stark again, he was kind enough to pretend never to have seen Peter’s dumb texts. He did look at Peter with some annoyed amusement, but Peter was perfectly capable of generating that reaction with things he did in the moment…like poking around Mr Stark’s amazing lab while the man half-heartedly told him off for it.

Peter put on the suit and Mr Stark explained to him the Training Wheels Protocol and how he needed to familiarize himself with all the suit’s functions before it would be fully unlocked to him. Mr Stark said that Peter was invited to use the facilities at the Avengers Compound for training if he liked, although he was still not invited to take part in any Avengers missions unless there was a world-ending event or something.

“At this point, it’s uncertain if the Avengers even exist anymore,” Mr Stark told him. “The Sokovia Accords haven’t been ratified, and amendments are being discussed. The UN is in two minds about what to do with the rogue superheroes. Ross wants an example made of them, but another more moderate faction wants to hear their thoughts and try to reach a compromise.”

Peter nodded. He had read up a lot on the Accords since he came home from Germany. It was very dense, boring legal text, but Peter tried not to depend too much on the highlights given in the media because he felt it was important for him to have an unbiased opinion on this. He was a bit worried about the registration clause, because having his identity made public would put his friends and family in danger and Peter didn’t have the means to protect them. There also didn’t seem to be anything dealing with underage superheroes, because the adults must have presumed that there _aren’t_ any underage superheroes.

“So what do you want?” Peter asked.

“Actually, I’ve thrown in the towel. I’m retired as a superhero. Someone else can deal with this mess.”

“Oh,” Peter said. He thought that was fair enough, considering what Mr Stark had been through. But Peter had a hard time imagining a threat coming up and Iron Man just sitting at home. It just didn’t seem like something he would do. But maybe it was fine to leave minor threats to other people. Peter resolved to become a better superhero so he could stand between new threats in place of Iron Man.

They sat together in companionable silence for a while as Peter familiarized himself with the interface in his suit.

“He sent me a letter,” Mr Stark said suddenly without preamble.

Peter looked up, instinctively knowing what Mr Stark was talking about.

“Yeah? What’d he say?”

Mr Stark shrugged in an overly casual way. “You want to read it? It’s in that drawer there.”

Peter pulled it out. It was an actual paper letter. Peter had only ever seen _bills_ in print.

_Tony, I'm glad you're back at the compound. I don't like the idea of you rattling around a mansion by yourself. We all need family. The Avengers are yours. Maybe more so than mine. I've been on my own since I was 18. I never really fit in anywhere, even in the army. My faith's in people, I guess. Individuals. And I'm happy to say that, for the most part, they haven't let me down. Which is why I can't let them down either. Locks can be replaced, but maybe they shouldn't. I know I hurt you, Tony. I guess I thought by not telling you about your parents I was sparing you, but I can see now that I was really sparing myself, and I'm sorry. Hopefully one day you can understand. I wish we agreed on the Accords, I really do. I know you're doing what you believe in, and that's all any of us can do. That's all any of us should. So no matter what, I promise you, if you need us…if you need me…I'll be there._

Peter shook his head disbelievingly, and looked up to where Mr Stark was clearly trying not to look at him expectantly.

“Wow. This guy…” Peter paused to arrange his words. “This guy is rife with self-contradiction.”

“Yeah?” Mr Stark said.

Even Peter could tell he was kind of fishing, but Peter had every sympathy and every intention of telling him what Peter thought of this shit. It must be awful to be at odds with a man so self-righteous that he was actually a symbol of justice, freedom, and patriotism.

“He says the Avengers are more yours than his, knowing this compound is empty because almost all of the Avengers went with him. He says he has faith in individuals, but he clearly never had enough faith in you. He says he’s sorry, but apart from those two words, this whole thing is him justifying himself. He says if you need him he’ll be here, but if he meant that…he wouldn’t be gone.” 

Peter couldn’t quite discern the look on Mr Stark’s face. He looked a bit pale. He seemed to be doing a breathing exercise.

“That’s what I thought, too,” Mr Stark said, finally.

But he needed somebody else to tell him that he wasn’t wrong. Peter had spent so long thinking of Iron Man as invincible and invulnerable - but the fact that he was vulnerable only made Peter admire him more.

“Can I hug you?” Peter said, shifting closer. Mr Stark opened his arms and Peter stepped into them, sighing softly at how good it felt.

”I really shouldn’t be doing this with you,” Mr Stark said half-heartedly.

Peter clung a little tighter. “There’s no law against hugs.”

“I shouldn’t be burdening you with my shit. I’m supposed to be an adult, if you can believe it,” said Mr Stark, pulling away and brushing a hand over Peter’s hair to soften the gesture.

“Adults are allowed to be sad when their friends try to kill them.”

Mr Stark laughed dryly. “Not if you tried to kill them first.”

“Did you really _try_ , though?”

“I’ve been thinking about that,” Mr Stark sighed. “And I don’t know.”

Mr Stark fiddled with Peter’s suit a bit more before he said, “I don’t know why it’s so easy to say these things to you. Pepper and Rhodey keep trying to get me to talk to them, but I can’t.”

“I get that,” Peter said. “It’s like when after Uncle Ben died, I couldn’t bring myself to talk to May about how I felt. But I could talk to Ned, even if all he said was, ‘that sucks, Peter’. It’s like…May was too close to the situation, and she loves me so much, and I couldn’t deal with that when I kind of hated myself.” Peter shook his head. “I…that’s not really a good explanation, I don’t know.” 

“I get it,” said Mr Stark. 

Peter smiled tentatively. “I’m…I’m really glad you like talking to me. I mean. Anytime.”

Mr Stark eyed him. “Anyone ever tell you that you come on kind of intense?”

Peter blushed and stuttered, but Mr Stark just waved a hand at him.

“Chill out, Arachnid-kid. People tell me I’m too intense all the time. Pfft, haters gonna hate, right?”

“Do you know that you saved my life one time?” Peter blurted out.

Mr Stark blinked. “New York 2012?”

“Oh, maybe more than one time then. I mean the Stark Expo 2010. I had an Iron Man mask on and a Hammer bot almost shot me. You probably don’t remember.”

Mr Stark gave a slow blink before he let out a delighted laugh. “I do remember! That was you?” He laughed some more, looking Peter up and down as if trying to match him to the nine-year-old at the Expo. “No improvement in your sense of self-preservation since 2010, huh?”

Peter shrugged and then jumped onto the ceiling, swinging by a string of web.

“I got skills now though.”

“Settle down and come look at these web shooter modes. No, don’t dangle there, creepy crawlie. Jesus.”

After a smatter of lighter conversation, Mr Stark asked, “Hey, I’ve been meaning to ask. How are you holding up? With the superheroing and all?”

Peter’s first reaction was to be defensive, because he always felt like he had to defend what he did from well-meaning adults who wanted to stop him from doing the only thing that kept him sane in the name of keeping him safe. But then he remembered that this was Mr Stark, and Mr Stark wasn’t all that likely to do that. 

“I’ve been having some nightmares,” Peter confessed. “About Captain Rogers.”

Mr Stark frowned in concern and stopped what he was doing to turn to Peter fully. It made Peter feel a bit silly for bringing it up.

“Not that _I_ have any place to be freaking out over Captain Rogers,” Peter added hastily, gesturing vaguely with his hands.

“Kid, it’s not a competition.” 

Too right it wasn’t, because if it was, Peter wouldn’t even be a runner-up, considering how many people had been hurt during this whole ordeal. Peter really wondered how the Winter Soldier felt about all this. If he was as innocent as Captain Rogers claimed he was…if the UN wanted a compromise with the Avengers, someone needed to be blamed, and the Winter Soldier was a glaringly easy target. 

“I keep dreaming about the bunker,” Peter blurted out. “I get there early, sometimes, and you’re still fighting, and he attacks me too. Or I get there and you’re unconscious, but I turn around and Captain America’s behind me and throws a truck at me or something.” Peter shrugged self-consciously. “It’s stupid, I know.”

“It’s not stupid,” said Mr Stark, coming closer but stopping short of touching Peter. “Is that why you keep texting me in the middle of the night?”

Peter turned pink at the confirmation that Mr Stark really does receive his texts. Damn it.

“I- um.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’m sorry. I know I don’t actually know you that well. But after those dreams I just…I get really worried about you.”

Mr Stark shook his head. “Don’t apologize. I dream about people I didn’t get to save all the time. Of course, you did save me, but…hey. I’m sorry I didn’t reply to your texts.”

“You don’t have to,” Peter mumbled awkwardly.

“No, it’s my bad. If you have bad dreams again, I promise I’ll reply, okay?”

Peter felt so awkward. It was one thing for Mr Stark to volunteer information to Peter…that felt like Peter was doing something good, being a good listener. He liked helping people in whatever way he could. He didn’t want Mr Stark to feel obligated to do anything for him, though. Mr Stark was already so nice to him. 

“Really, it’s okay,” Peter insisted in a slightly stronger voice. “It’s not that big a deal, and you must be really busy, I know.”

Mr Stark rolled his eyes. “Honestly, I’m right in here most hours of the day.” He pointed around the lab. “Sleep is not my friend either. Science, though. Science is a forever bro. Anyway, what I’m _trying_ to say is: you’re not an inconvenience at all. You’re one of the few people I can stand these days, which, I assure you, is more of a compliment than it sounds.” He grinned ruefully. “I might even go so far as to call you a friend, Spider-man.”

Peter smiled too, though he wasn’t sure how visible that sort of facial expression was from behind the mask. 

“So I can call you Tony?”

“When you’re Spider-man? Definitely. It’s a real tip-off of how old you are if you go around calling me Mr Stark.”


End file.
